My Solace

In my dreams I'm sitting on a snowy cliff, high above and away from everything. I hug my knees close to my chest and sit complacently just listening to the silence of the cold empty air. When I look down the mountain I can see my hero, riding up it in a way that makes the weathered steepness look flat, so comfortable, so perfect. He's my cowboy with silver shining spokes on his boots, and a rustic unshaven naiveness tattooed on his face. He's getting closer, but never close enough to touch. This is my dream because it is the manifestation of hope, it is my solace; and if he were to enter into my world, I would no longer have anything to seek. I would know that the realness that must be beneath his simple smile would be so much less than what I have to give. So with my arms around my legs, or whoever may be in their place, I just stair in the distance at my cowboy, never thinking…I can't wait.